she real cool

"the world is kinda cold and the rhythm is my blanket"

mardi, novembre 28, 2006

No Thru Traffic

Someone wrote something somewhere on this interweb--maybe a blog, maybe an online mag---about girls who's bangs were 'hot combed to their foreheads'. (I'm paraphrasing from spotty memory.) I remember it now because I just listened to "Ride Around Shining" where dude (pusha/malice?) mentions hot combed hair (hair pressed/blowing in the wind/shit 'bout long as Jesus). The songs recalls a lot for me, Kemba Smith prominently, but this line lead me to that aforementioned hot combed reference. For some reason--the forgotten context?--I didn't think 'hot combed to their foreheads' was written by a Black person. Assuming I was right, it leads me to comment on the persistent infringement upon Black space. Now, like I said my memory is spotty. If 'pressed' (with its multiple meanings) was used in lieu of hot combed the sentence could work but hot combed simply doesn't make sense and evinces a faulty grasp of Black hair care. Hot combing is a straightening technique relatively antiquated on the east, more common in the south and still pretty popular in the west (from where I hail). And one doesn't straighten their bangs to their forehead. One can gel them down, brush them down, or tie them down with a silk scarf. I say this to demonstrate how common it is for non-Black pop commentators to make Black cultural references without understanding the particulars. Irrespective of the hot combed comment which I can't place and could be getting wrong, I see and hear similar things all the time. I went to elementary and secondary school pretty much exclusively with wealthy White and Asian girls who would always talk about how their hair was so nappy. Of course they meant their hair looked bad. Nappy is not a synonym for bad hair day. It is a perjorative for tightly coiled hair common to people of African descent. And while there is a history of specific perjoratives gaining a wider meaning (niggardly maybe) this usage is entirely diff. For non-whites Black space has no propietary rights and it's unilaterally accesible if it's existence is even acknowledged (You might could argue that Black space is an oxymoron in the developed post-colonial world). And that's a big if. Take Adrian Brody non-consensual kiss of Halle Berry at the Oscars for example. Or the daily unexcused bumping, stepping on, running of the sidewalk of Blacks by Whites. This is not just a question of manners or home training it's about bodies and value and visibilty. You can't infringe upon that which has no boundaries. One morning commute I stood next to a Black woman on the Q train who threatened to kill a White woman who knowingly battered her with her oversized bags without saying excuse me or moving (Exact overheard words: "I will kill you!"). All of the white people were stunned and aghast. I chuckled to myself a la the protagonist of the Invisible Man. Many of us play it cool. Let that shit slide. It's a polarizing encounter and its more advantageous for us to navigate White supremacist patriachal supremacy by staying quiet. Not that bouts of rage are any better. Soul food ain't the only cause of the Black hypertension pandemic. This is just a restatement of what I hope will not be an eternal truism: the ubiquity of Blackness (appropiated, aped and adored) is not evidence of racial progress.

Nov. 27 - A witness surfaced Monday who casts doubt on a police account of why officers fired a hail of 50 bullets at three unarmed men, killing one on his wedding day.

A female dancer at a Queens, N.Y. topless club told investigators that it was the police who rammed the car the young men were in, not the other way around.

Trini Wright told the New York Daily News the officers "jumped out shooting…there was no 'Stop.' No 'freeze.' No nothing."

The Rev. Al Sharpton led a crowd at a vigil and rally late Sunday to demand answers about the flurry of bullets police fired early Saturday that killed 23-year-old Sean Bell. He was to marry his high-school sweetheart and mother of his two young children that day.

The officers were undercover, investigating weapons and prostitution complaints at the club when a large group of men started arguing. Police say the men were in a car that twice rammed a police vehicle.

A grand jury investigation has been initiated, but it could take some time before the NYPD can interview the officers who fired their weapons.

lundi, novembre 20, 2006

Thankstaking

I got an e-mail from a friend today concerning the inconvenient truth of Thursday's holiday. I didn't read it. I never thought the the Pilgrims rosy cheeked cherubs, the Native Americans red fleshed savages nor Thanksgiving a celebration of their historic dinner. Thanksgiving is my family's celebration. We come together, we eat good, we cut up, we play cards and play board games, we nap, we eat again, we talk stuff, we thank God and we have a good time. Moreover Thanksgiving is 2 days off. (If that ain't reason for thanks I don't know what is.) My ancestors ain't have nothing to do with the systematic killing of the original American peoples so I have no cause for guilt. That said, here's my menu (subject to change) for Thursday's feast:

As you can see I outsourced the turkey, vegan roast, gravy and dessert to experts and I'm gonna try and handle the rest.

Edit: Whole Foods fucked up my order. I'll order from LifeThyme next year if I cook. I may just suggest the fam goes out to dinner. Craft maybe? I got up at 6 prepping food and with the oven steady on it was slavery hot in my kitchen. Nobody liked the mashed sweet potatoes but me. As critically acclaimed a bakery as Almondine is, their Tatin left something to be desired. Also il laboratorio's sorbet was good but icy. I fucked up the cornbread. I made it from scratch and it looked beautiful but was dry as dirt.

mardi, novembre 14, 2006

Boomerang

Fig. 1: Two "Too blessed to be stressed" women in action.

I'm bringing "Too blessed to be stressed" back. Joining the movement is easy. Respond to inquiries about your health and well being with, "I'm too blessed to be stressed." Flourish with sassy head nod (or alternately by kicking up dust.) Depart and stroll confidently towards your future.

Elsewhere

vendredi, novembre 10, 2006

A Ship Launching Face

Max Minghella photographed for Interview Magazine

I plowed through Art School Confidential last night, a not so good movie--disjointed, poorly written, overacted (w/ the exception of John Malkovich)--on account of Max Minghella. I mean the movie has a great premise and a few funny moments but is otherwise shit. But Minghella, whose performance was nuanced and subtle, was enough to keep me tuned in. I'm not going to qualify his beauty because modifiers like achingly or painfully don't make sense to me. Somewhere I read that description of Julia Roberts in her Broadway debut and I was annoyed. Who hurts in the presence of beauty? If anything beauty compells, distracts all to it. It lengthens attention spans, lulls running-off-at-the-mouthdown, makes you otherwise unoccupied.

vendredi, novembre 03, 2006

Sweet Potato Pie!

...as cooed by the jazzy senior in the front row of the Batiste concert last night in response to some unexpectedly exceptional key tickling is the new exclamation. This is what it sounded like 12 years ago: